


Chapter XVIII

by rhicola



Series: See You In Hindsight [19]
Category: The Walking Dead, Walking Dead
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhicola/pseuds/rhicola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you're welcome.</p></blockquote>





	Chapter XVIII

The pain hadn’t completely subsided yet, even after four whole days of bed rest. Expired Advil only did so much, and the rest of his pain had to be tolerated—which was definitely something Daryl was used to doing by now. It was Hershel who had finished Beth’s job of cleaning him up that night when the group was back within the safety of the prison’s walls. The stab wound on his leg was stitched up and his nose was set painfully with a bandage. Every day he was visited in his cell by Hershel, who would check his sutures and vitals before administering more painkillers; and Beth, who insisted that he didn’t speak every time he opened his mouth to do so.

For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon wanted to talk about himself, about what happened to him, and his feelings surrounding what went down at Woodbury. He wanted to ask Beth questions, for her thoughts on his…flashbacks? _Is that what it was?_ He wanted to confide in her his fears and worries, and have her comfort him the way that he knew she could. And she just wasn’t letting him do that. He felt lonely, and it actually bothered him now.

But he knew her boundaries too, so he gave her the space she seemed to be looking for.

Daryl didn’t know exactly what had happened between Beth and his brother, but even the very least severe scenario of it that he could come up with made his blood boil with anger instantly. He knew how cruel Merle could be, and for Beth to be shirtless and wounded as an end result of whatever it was he decided to do…

“Hey.”

The voice pulled Daryl from his thoughts and he looked up from _Change of Heart_ to find Maggie in the doorway of his cell. “Still readin’ that thing?” she asked as she stepped into his cell and motioned toward the bed before taking a seat at the end of it.

“Been reading the same sentence over an’ over again, if you can call that reading,” Daryl replied, straddling the book across his chest to hold his page. “Can’t really concentrate on it.”

Maggie nodded slowly, her expression painted with concern that she wasn’t quite sure how to convey through words. She wringed her fingers together and watched as her knuckles turned white. “She really loves that book.”

“Yeah, it’s good…you know, for a chick lit.” Daryl snorted quietly and then let out a groan of pain. After settling again, he sighed. “I think June’s selfish for rejecting Shay’s heart. I mean, I get it. Why would you want the heart of the man that killed your daughter and husband inside your second daughter? But if it were me…I’d rather have my daughter alive and well than struggling to get up and answer the door when someone’s knocking at it.”

Again, Maggie agreed with a silent nod of her head, and Daryl could tell she wasn’t really listening to him. Something else was on her mind, the way that his thoughts kept him from paying attention to the words he was reading.

“I’ll save book club talk for Beth,” he concluded, gesturing for Maggie to take over.

“Sorry,” she laughed, shaking her head as her fingers massaged her temples. “I just wanted to thank you, Daryl.”

When he didn’t respond, she carefully went on, choosing her words slowly. “For Beth…for the vest. I have no idea what all went on, but the first thing I noticed was Beth wearing your vest…and the lack of clothes beneath it. Then the state you were in…it all registered slowly, but I realized that you put her needs before your own, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

As Maggie spoke, Daryl began sitting up, his hand raised to stop her from making him out to be some sort of hero. He coughed and winced, groping at his sides as if he could soothe the pain with his own touch. “Please, Maggie. It was nothin’.”

“Daryl,” she rebutted sternly, her stare icy as she dared him to protest again. “She’s my baby sister. And I just want to thank you for protecting her, okay?”

Surrendering, Daryl gave an exasperated sigh and nodded, accepting her gratitude without another word. With a satisfied smile, Maggie stood up from his bunk, patted the tips of his toes, and slipped out of his cell before he could throw in a last minute objection.

He sat up fully now, disobeying Hershel’s request for him to stay in bed, and the book slipped off his chest, landing in a heap on the floor. He paused for a moment and then gathered up the crutches leaning against the opposite wall, hoisted himself up on his good leg, and wobbled unsteadily out of his cell.

Rounding the corner, Daryl entered Beth’s cell without giving her a warning of his presence, threw the crutches down, and took a shaky seat on the edge of her bunk. “Can we talk?”

Beth sat up quickly as Daryl entered her cell, crossing her legs underneath her to give him space to sit. She put _Brave New World_ on the table next to her bunk, then pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin atop them. After eavesdropping on his conversation with Maggie, Beth resisted her instinct to chide the archer for getting out of bed. He still looked like hell. Daryl’s eyes were a bit swollen, the bruises on his face were mostly a deep purple, but some were turning green around the edges. He was healing, slowly. Beth felt a pang of guilt looking at him. It was her fault this happened.

“Yeah, of course Daryl. What’s on your mind?”

A lot. A lot was on his mind, and he didn't know where to start. He wanted to ask her what happened with Merle, and he wanted the truth, not the sugar-coated version. He wanted to apologize for whatever it was that Merle did to her. He wanted to talk about what the Governor did to him and what he went through, how much the group saw when they all came into his holding room. Hell, he wanted to talk about his childhood with her, finally confide in someone about the hell he called his life growing up.

"How are you?" Daryl started, turning his body slowly so that he was facing Beth full on.

Beth tried to smile at him, reassure him that what happened to her at Woodbury was okay. Or she was okay. She swallowed, her throat dry thinking about it. “I’m okay,” Beth slowly met his eye, “Mostly worried about you.”

Daryl nodded slowly. They were worried about each other more than they were about themselves, which was very typical of the both of them. "I'll heal," he whispered. "Broke my nose a few times before, which always heals. Broke my ribs before too, and they heal. Had plenty of bruises in my lifetime, so that'll be okay. I can handle being stabbed, too."

He looked down at his hands and pressed his lips together. "All that can heal, Beth. I'm worried about you and we ain't talked about it yet."

Beth looked down to her lap, cleared her throat. “Yeah, you know, Merle didn’t realize you were there.” She let her knees down, fidgeted with the blanket in between them.

After she woke up back at the prison, she’d thrown herself into taking care of Judith, helping change Daryl’s bandages, helping the people she loved. Beth didn’t want to spend time pitying herself over what happened. She wasn’t raped. Her family needed her, so she chose not to think about it. Maggie didn’t even know the whole story. Beth hadn’t expected to feel so much after Woodbury. While she hadn’t known everything that would happen beforehand, she thought maybe being even slightly prepared for what Merle did would make it no big deal. But it didn’t. She was changed forever, and she didn’t know if she’d ever feel happiness without the twinge of darkness Woodbury unlocked in her.

“He didn’t, you know, touch me or anything,” Beth finally managed to lift her head, and look Daryl in the eye.

He hadn't known exactly what he was expecting to hear from Beth, but finding out that his brother hadn't done anything...too sexual to her made him actually breathe a sigh of relief. "Good," he muttered, dropping his gaze from Beth to his hands again. "I'm sorry...for what he did do, though. He's an asshole."

Beth managed a smile finally. It felt better to talk about it, especially to Daryl. He made her feel safe, and she realized she hadn’t really felt safe since Woodbury. Her hand reached out to him before she could stop it, and she cupped the side of his face gently. “You deserve better for a brother. I’ll be okay.”

Without realizing it, Daryl leaned into Beth’s hand, the cool of it relieving some of the pain in his inflamed cheeks. He knew that he deserved a better brother, but Merle was Merle. And at the end of the day, he still loved his brother. He’d still sacrifice all he had for him; he’d still protect him if he could, even if Merle wouldn’t ever return that favor.

“He’s an asshole, but he’s still my brother,” he explained quietly, his hand coming up to Beth’s and grasping it gently. He pulled her hand away from his face and held it between both of his hands, pressing her fingers flat against his palms. “He’s an asshole, but he stopped that prick, so…”

When she and Daryl were alone, Beth felt like they were the only two people left in the world. Whatever was happening to her, living this life again, made her realize that home isn’t where you sleep at night, it’s who makes you feel safe. That was who Daryl was for her. She found herself leaning closer to him, soaking up his warmth and the energy fizzling between them.

“What did the Governor do to you, Daryl?” her voice was wrapped in concern.

Daryl broke eye contact with her again. His mind clouded with the memories, the pain and suffering he was put through. The flashbacks. He hadn’t ever experienced that before, and the more he thought about it, the more he figured it was a form of post-traumatic stress—though he was no doctor.

He could physically feel his wall coming up again, building itself between his heart and Beth’s. “He uh…” Daryl started, fighting the lump in his throat and squeezing Beth’s hand to keep himself from crumbling. “You know…”

Watching Daryl struggle to find words tugged at Beth’s heart. Her free hand stretched out and landed as light as a feather on his shoulder. She rubbed his forearm; trying to bring him some comfort, let him know he was safe to talk about it.

Words escaped the man, making him feel illiterate and stupid as he stammered. His hands were wet with sweat, which he rubbed into Beth’s nervously as he pieced together sentences like magnetic words on a refrigerator door.

“I…think that I, um…”

Daryl sighed loudly, mentally cursing himself for not being able to talk about it when he wanted to so badly. He looked up at Beth and swallowed thickly. “At one point…I wasn’t…in that room,” he explained carefully. “And it wasn’t that son of a bitch anymore. And I don’t get what happened. It makes me sound insane.”

“You don’t sound insane, Daryl,” Beth whispered firmly. “It’s okay.” The hand she had on his shoulder made its way to his chin, her fingers curled softly, pulling his gaze to meet hers. She tried to send him the strength he needed to open up about what happened to him—both at Woodbury and with his father.

She remembered when Daryl talked about his father with her before. Beth didn’t think she would ever be able to forget, though the memory was rounded with moonshine corners. It was fuzzy, but she’d always wondered if Daryl would ever open up about him sober. And she knew it was he whom Daryl thought of during his beating from the Governor.

“I’m here to listen, not to judge.”

Daryl felt close with Beth, and had for months. But for some reason, in this moment he felt a connection to her a thousand times stronger than he ever had before. Like their souls had somehow merged into one. He felt safe with her, happy even though his thoughts swam with distant memories. He felt at home, a sentiment he never truly had in all his life.

“I know,” he breathed. His eyes left hers and stopped a few inches down where her lips were parted as she exhaled slowly, watching him watch her.

He leaned in slowly at first, waiting for Beth’s hand to push him back roughly; but instead, her fingertips slid along his cheek and wrapped lightly around the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

Beth felt Daryl’s sharp intake of breath as her lips closed the distance between them, he stole her breath away. Her brain was clouded, and if he pushed her away she would excuse her actions with the emotions of their conversation, the weight of it. She wanted to close her eyes, lose herself in what was coming next, but Beth’s eyes were locked on Daryl’s. Part of her thought he would run from her cell, or chastise her for her age, say she was far too young for him. She’d thought of this moment every day at Grady. If they’d just had two more minutes in that kitchen, would this have happened? Beth remembered the deep yearning in her belly each night, when she would toss and turn in the stiff hospital bed, playing the scene over and over again in her head. Each time, instead of a hoard of walkers interrupting them, Daryl would kiss her. This was so much better.

She moved forward, tightening her grip on the base of his neck, lacing her fingers through his hair. The last few steps felt like magnets pulling them together, and suddenly their lips were dancing. The chemistry between them crescendoed finally, the momentum swinging them through this delicate tango. Beth sighed contently as their lips parted, and then came together again.

Daryl’s body felt like it was on fire. A blush was spreading across his cheeks to his neck and ears, swelling his contusions. The more they moved, their lips playing a duet along all eighty-eight keys of a piano, the more his bruises hurt. Each time they broke apart for a gasp of air, his chest ached, and the lack of oxygen to his brain was making his head throb.

But all of that didn’t matter. He was focused on Beth, and counting each time her tongue passed over his lips; focused on her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently as she held their kisses together; focused on her giggles each time she pulled away just long enough to tilt her head the opposite way and continue their waltz.

Finally—reluctantly—Daryl pulled away. His fingers, which had found the nape of Beth’s neck during their kisses, caressed her skin slowly, lovingly. He smiled at her and ducked his head as another blush swept across his face.

“Beth…I, um,” he began, looking up to meet her eye again, his smile fading quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> you're welcome.


End file.
